Colorless
by Keeper of Tomes
Summary: Alternate title of "Weather Report." 20 of the 100 Challenge. DA/P--He wished for it all to end, just so that she could finally belong to him.


**Title: **Colorless OR Weather Reports**  
Author: **Keeper of Tomes**  
Song: **"Curl Up And Die," by Reliant K**  
Summary: **20 of the 100 Challenge. DA/P--He wished for it all to end, just so that she could finally belong to _him_.**  
Words:** 2,679**  
Pairing(s): **DA/P

Song courtesy of Invader Insane, who requested something built up around it.

To you, then, friend! This one is for you!

To all who dislike angsty, barely-make-sense fics, TURN BACK NOW. NOW, I SAY!

Re-reading this, it doesn't feel like I wrote it. Weird, eh?

* * *

The pain wasn't half bad, if he turned away from the bloody wound and focused on something far away. There were worse things to worry about than a broken arm, into which had set a bad case of gangrene. There were Talon rides being shot down all around, furious blasts of blue that weren't that far off their mark...Pain was the least of his troubles.

The doctor, however...

"We're going to have to amputate."

He sighed and closed his eyes, just for a moment, before nodding. The doctor's footsteps faded away into the dark and slippery distance. _Amputate? Isn't that a nineteenth century thing? _he thought, annoyed. Losing an arm was not part of the plan. In hindsight, however, losing the war wasn't exactly aforethought either. He gritted his teeth as another ripple of what felt like murderous electricity tore through the desecrated muscle of his left arm.

"Damn."

Another explosion, and this one didn't miss. Half the field hospital was up in flames, and before you could say, "What-the-hell," he was being tugged at frantically. Unfortunately for him, his "rescuer" had decided to grapple his injured arm.

He saw spots. An "ARRRRGH!" pulled itself from his throat. A hasty apology and a few moments of pain later, he was being lifted onto his feet. A pair of bony, shivering shoulders were beneath his body. Someone was leading him along, someone was shouting something about getting water. The heat licked at the sides of his face, sweat pouring down to the tip of his chin and nose. His useless arm hung limp at his side; every now and again, he glanced down, to make sure the flames hadn't consumed it without him knowing.

Finally, sunlight. A blue-ish sky speckled with gray, where Talon and Atmosian rides were shot down and smoke drifted.

The ground was beneath his knees as he crumpled.

Sleep...would be nice.

---

"Piper, you did _not _just drag the Dark Ace out of a burning field hospital."

"I didn't."

"Pi-"

"I dragged an injured human being from a building on fire. It was an obligation! Save lives first, ask questions later, you should know that, Finn..."

It is the sound of living; it's almost lovely. At first, he reckons he's in the Condor, but then comes the groaning of a multitude of other men. He can feel the rushed breathing of doctors, loud and hasty, as they move from one hopeless case to the next. They have passed the point of caring, to where they see humans no longer as people, but as sacks of meat and flesh.

There is pain in his arm...The left one. He winces and thinks, _Have they not amputated it yet? _Then flings the sheets aside and sees nothing there but a bandaged stump. A sigh draws itself from his lips. Phantom limbs; how cliché. He lies back down and looks at the ceiling above, feels the hardwood below. Someone is sitting nearby and he or she is breathing softly in his ear.

"Are you alright?"

She.

He knows who it is and for this...and this alone...

Refuses to answer.

---

He is going to go to jail as soon as he got better.

The doctor said it, the Sky Knight said it, (a little more sympathetically than the doctor,) and the blondie said it. Wallop and Merb and girl remain stubbornly silent.

"I'm sorry, Piper," someone whispers. "It's the law."

"Damn the law. He shouldn't have to suffer any more than he has."

The middle of the night comes fast when you sleep most of the time. She is beside him again, this time standing. In her arms is herself; she clutches at her own body and is swaying to music only she can hear. He tries not to notice her shadow, moving against the moonlight. She sits down and looks at him intently, whispers: "Explain to me why you did it."

He knows what she's talking about; it's what the whole world is constantly asking of him: Why?

And for some reason not even he can understand, his mouth opens, and the words come out.

---

"What's it like outside?"

"Hm?"

Such a strange request.

"The weather, girl, the weather."

"Oh!"

She stands in realization, blushing profoundly, before striding to the window he cannot see and peering at the sky. "Cloudy...Looks like rain...A silver heaven if I ever did see one..."

Her waist is a smooth arch, a ladder his hand itches to climb.

---

She can tell that he is trying to delay the recovery. Perhaps he is avoiding jail. Perhaps he just can't bring himself to leave.

_Perhaps he wants to stay with me_.

Such a selfish thought.

He is peeking over the brim of her soul, at what lies deep down in her little well of broken dreams. People have tossed so many wishing coins down there, it's almost full. So many aspirations. So much pressure. Her smiles are always taut and he can't ever make her laugh. Not even the other members of her team, which neither of them seem to care about, pay much attention to her anymore.

One morning...after she's told him the sky is blue and the sun is a beautiful golden coin glimmer-flashing...Light catches her face and he thinks he sees a halo above her head. Maybe even smoky wings made of dust particles.

"Why do you care?"

"Because everyone deserves a second chance."

"Not me," he grumbles, hoping for reassurance.

She sighs and says, "I wasn't talking about you."

---

Ever since they knew they'd lose, he and the Master had grown bitter towards each other. Which was why he had not asked the girl where his former boss was. She must have found this strange, but she never mentioned it. Perhaps because she was afraid of what he might say.

Really, it was the fall from a throne he thought he'd never lose. It was Aerrow's place now, the Sky Knight who had managed to defeat the greatest dogfighter in the history of the stars.

Shattered mirrors...broken pieces...He'd cut himself too many times to count.

Now why would she want to touch a man like him, unless she wanted to shed some blood, as well?

---

"War still going?"

"Barely."

The day of departure. He is on his feet and trying to dress without assistance. She sits in her usual spot, watching him. Almost amused. Reaches up, touches the bruised and scarred skin, wraps the shirt around his back and gently eases the arm-that-is-not-an-arm into a sleeve. He sighs and does not thank her. Something as simple as words is not enough.

"Must you go?"

She knows the answer. "Some things, Piper, are beyond our control." And he should know. He can accept it. He's accepted his death, his capture, a long time ago. But she, obviously, has not.

"But there must be a way...A way to wrap your head around this...To understand..."

He places his hand on her shoulder and feels her breaths rumble through the rest of her body, labored and distressed. If he concentrates, he can just feel her pulse... Maybe his touch was like a good-bye...Maybe she should promise she'll visit...

The guards come and they take him away. She sits down on the hospital bed and whispers something about the weather.

How the sky is blue but it shouldn't be.

---

"I should go, now."

Aerrow eyes her cautiously. "Where to, now, Piper?"

"The prison."

"To see...?"

"Who else?"

The Sky Knight rubs the back of his neck; "Piper, why do you--"

"Care? Funny, he asked me that, too." She opens the door and leaves.

---

When her face appears between the bars, he sits up and smiles. She, however, does not.

"I shouldn't be here."

"No, you shouldn't."

"But I am."

"But you are."

He grins and leans against the metal, leans towards her and asks, "What's it like outside?"

She tells him and somehow, she can't stop talking, as if she knew that once her sentences paused, the tears would start. Finally, he manages to get a sentence in. "Are you trying to kill yourself, Piper?" he whispers. "Do you want to die, inside?" Her answer is to reach through the metal bars for his shoulder. Her hand floats in midair, looking so lonely; all he had to do was reach out, lean forward...Yet strength leaves him; her arm is retracted, and her eyelashes flutter, trying to keep the salt back.

"I think I already have," she says. "This is stupid, isn't it?"

"Very."

She thanks him for his honesty, thanks him for his time. Turns to leave.

"Come again tomorrow?" he says.

"Why? You like having me around?"

"I need my weather report, don't I?"

She laughs and says,

"Maybe next week."

---

"How did you die?"

It is routine now. Every week she comes. Every week, he tries to figure her out.

He is an open book. He is legible.

She is a journal, locked tight, with scrawled letters on its fragile pages.

"I didn't die."

"You know what I mean, Piper."

_Yes. I do._

She turns away, almost coy. Almost guilty. Almost smiling. "I feel old," she says at last, stubbornly. "I feel old and I don't want to be old, but I know that I can't be young again. Because all we've got is _now_, and even now is only really now for a millisecond. Because the past is all that matters; you can't predict the future, you can't predict what will happen, what people will do. The only things you really know are then and now. Then is a memory and now is then." Intake of breath. "I'm sorry," she says at last, a forced laugh following. "I didn't mean to lecture."

The clock strikes three; she says she must go. "It's raining, by the way."

"I know."

"How?"

He reaches out and smiles.

"Your hair is wet."

---

Slowly, he is falling in love with her. Every visit, every word, every look inside her heart, is another supernova of realization.

His focus has always been on the Sky Knight, but he remembers her, now.

Remembers a smoky day on Saharr. Remembers shoving her fragile body aside and her shout of protest. What follows he can barely recollect. Something about a suit...Something about power.

Her smile. He remembers her smile.

A smile he'd give anything to see.

At night, he hears the people walking around above him, sometimes even wheels. Life goes on, whether he's there or not. The sun rises and sets and he doesn't matter. Really, the world can never end. As long as the day comes and the night comes, the grass grows, the trees groan, the wind rustles...

He thinks about what would've happened, if this had been another time.

He imagines her against him.

He wishes for it all to end...Just so that she can finally belong to _him_.

---

"Sometimes..."

Sigh.

"I wish I could just curl up and die."

Her words shake him to his core. "Think of who you're leaving behind."

"My team doesn't care."

She's forgotten--

"Me, then. What about me?" _I even sound selfish to myself._

"You'll manage."

Somehow he wraps his one arm around her, through the bars and about her waist. She sags and moans and cries without tears. He whispers, fiercely, so that she will never forget:

"I can't _be _without you."

---

She didn't come the next week; he feared it was something he said. Sat on the bed and worried, went without knowing what the day was like.

Finally, her face showed once more, a jacket wrapped tight around her body.

"It snowed," she states. "White all around."

A swallow. He waits for more.

"I'm leaving."

He nods. It had to happen.

"I'm going to Biblia...to study. I need to be more. I'm just not happy here. As long as I'm here, I'll keep on wanting to die..."

"Stay, please." His first words in forever. "If you stay, I'll...I'll..." He reaches out, but she's too far away. She does not come closer, does not allow him to stroke her honey-brown skin. "I'll die with you," he states. She laughs and finally allows him to touch her.

"No one deserves something as horrible as--"

"I don't mind."

"But I do."

She turns, and he will remember this moment forever: her silhouette against the gray light, an outline of gold. Eyes sparkling yellow in the not so distant distance. Dark hair falling over her face. She smiles, white teeth flashing. Then whispers, "Good-bye."

Is gone.

---

No more news from the outside. No word from her. "How long have I been here?" is answered with uncaring grunts.

He thinks of maybe writing a letter to her. Or maybe to the team. But the chances he'd get a reply...

Of course he understands why she's gone. Loving a man from behind metal bars is not enough for her. It was more than enough for him; it was almost perfect. But she...was still young and had her life in front of her. Why waste it in a prison, talking to _him_? Perhaps she'd gone off with her Sky Knight. Maybe the two of them were living happily somewhere, away from the eyes of the world...

Each morning, he wakes up and is forced to greet a colorless dawn.

Sometimes he whispers her name, just to himself. Just _for _himself.

"Piper," he says.

Every day.

Wishing she'll answer.

"_Piper_."

Until...finally...after a millennium and a thousand deaths...

"Piper."

"Yes?"

---

He didn't feel like asking why she returned. Maybe all her studying didn't go so well, maybe Biblia exploded, maybe she was a dream...Did it matter?

She was a child struggling with death and age. He was a man struggling with love and youth.

They weren't meant to be, it was obvious. He was jamming the wrong puzzle-piece into a misshapen space.

She kept on coming, sporadic visits. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for seconds.

Always with a weather report: "It's green and it's spring." "It's golden. It's afternoon. It's summer." "Fall again. Everything's on fire." "Winter...No snow, yet, though!"

He relished her every word.

---

"I know you want to know."

"Know what?"

It's been so long...So long since her presence was not...present.

"Why I came back."

He pauses and stares at the empty sleeve at his side, drawn suddenly back to a time and age when he burned with pain and self-pity. And now...

"I missed you," he whispers.

He hopes for her to mirror the words, but all she says is,

"Does your offer still stand?"

"What offer?"

"To die with me."

He stands. Waits until his voice is under control.

Reaches out.

"Yes."

---

They won't let him out. That's the verdict. Nope.

Aerrow put his word in; hell, all the Storm Hawks did.

Still no.

Even Starling piped up, saying that maybe it was time to move on.

All this Piper told him. All this he believed. All this he pined over. She came more often, now. Every day, almost. He is already living with her. Now all that is left is to die with her. One morning, she even said, "Can you please hold me?" He holds her from behind the bars. It is funny...He has never held her without metal between them. Never kissed her lips.

Clinging to the remnants of perfection, they stood on opposite sides of a jail cell door and waited for life to end.

For him to be free...Just so that he could die.

---

"They're letting you go!"

"What?"

He sits up, good arm supporting his weight.

"They're letting you go!"

"When?"

"Today. Now. Aerrow broke through. Oh, I can't believe this!"

"Neither can I, Piper. Neither can I."

---

The night he emerges into is absolutely wonderful. She's beside him, her breath warm. It's midsummer night; the air is sticky as melted sugar. Together, they walk down the abandoned street. The Sky Knight and the others have all already been thanked; she never did go with him, after all. For this, the prisoner is grateful.

The Dark Ace and Piper stroll quietly to the hills.

They lay down, curled against each other; he holds her completely for the first time.

Whispers,

"I thought you were an angel once."

"Oh? Once? Not anymore?"

"You're just Piper, now."

"That'll have to do."

She sags against him. "Life is tiring. Life always kills you. But death is just sleep. I've been waiting to sleep forever since...forever."

They stare at the stars until their eyes sag and begin to close; her breathing slows and begins to peter out. He holds her hand and hopes he'll see her soon.

"Goodnight, Piper."

No response.

He smiles and closes his eyes.

The weather report for the evening: clear, cloudless. Warm.

Beautiful.


End file.
